


Down to Earth

by Skywalker



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Escapism, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywalker/pseuds/Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young emperor of Vers slips away from the burden of governance for two days to visit the only people who still treat him like a normal person. And also to get laid. Post-series/future-fic. Inaho/Slaine, implied Inaho/Asseylum and Slaine/Asseylum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to Earth

He tells Harklight that he’s going to visit his mother’s grave, which is a lie, and the chief of staff looks at him with patient disbelief for a moment before dutifully composing a press release that His Majesty is indisposed, which is equally untrue. He sneaks out of his own consulate and into Prague in an enlisted man’s uniform, his too-recognizable fair hair hidden under a wig. His people are so common in this district that none of the Terran residents give him a second glance. He swaps his uniform and wig for casual clothes and a cap at the train station, pays for a ticket in cash, and is en route to Berlin fifteen minutes later. He thinks he sees a member of his security detail hiding behind a magazine across the train car, which means that there must be more he can't see, and that Harklight has probably sent more of them on ahead. That’s fine. Harklight will have made sure that anyone he sends to shadow his too-willful emperor won’t share their secret. He disembarks a few hours later into crisp winter sunlight and takes the U-Bahn to a neighborhood populated largely by university young students, and here, on the last leg of the trip, he gives in to his impulse to run, and dashes down the busy pedwalks until he’s outside an almost-new apartment building and has to stop to fumble for an access card he hasn’t used in months. 

The card, like the building, is a more complicated piece of technology than meet the eye. This neighborhood was heavily damaged by a stray meteor strike late during the war, and when the Vers Empire sent technological assistance to help repair the area at the end of hostilities, the Imperial Household surreptitiously made sure this building was constructed according to exacting specifications. It’s the only apartment building constructed of the same blast-proof stuff as Landing Castles, or with a hidden substructure large enough to hide Rayet’s Dioscuria.

The second “death” of Imperial Princess Asseylum Vers Allusia at the hands of Martian traitors had been the only way to abate Vers’s hatred of Terrans and bring them home, but he hadn’t taken chances about keeping “Seylum” alive. 

He cards open the door of a second-story apartment and steps inside, feeling like an enormous weight has lifted as soon as he crosses the threshold. “I’m home,” Slaine calls wistfully. 

“Welcome back.” There’s a clatter from the kitchen, and Inaho pokes his head around the door. “You’re early; the girls are still in class, and Edel-chan has practice until six. Do you want me to call them?”

He smiles softly and shakes his head, taking in the sunny, book-filled living room. There are doubles of most texts on the shelves, since either Inaho or Rayet shadows Asseylum to every one of her classes. He sees ecology, botany, and physiology – books to rebuild a healing planet. 

He wishes he could stay here with them. Tonight and tomorrow will have to be enough. 

Inaho shrugs and heads back into the kitchen; Slaine slips off his coat and shoes and pads after him. Something meaty is simmering on a burner and something sweet is in the oven, and the air is fragrant with rising steam. It’s so cozy and domestic that it’s almost alien to Slaine, who pauses in the doorway just to breathe in the smell and watch Inaho beating something in a bowl. Inaho tolerates this voyeurism for a moment, then pushes a carton of strawberries at him and sets him to slicing them. Being roped into these little, mundane tasks makes it easier for Slaine to feel like he belongs in this fairy tale world, and, tentatively, he asks how Asseylum is doing. Inaho’s answers are calm and soft-spoken, as always, but there’s clear pride in his voice as he describes her life here in tender detail, and when Slaine peeks over, he sees that Inaho’s eyes are soft and the corners of his mouth are lifted in a tiny smile. 

Slaine bites his lip and forces himself to look away, to focus on the tiny allotment of domesticity he can sneak for himself. He can’t let himself be jealous; if he wants to protect her, he has to stay on this path…

Inaho’s arms wrap loosely around him from behind, and his face presses against Slaine’s shoulder. “You look tired,” he says quietly, “even on the net.”

“It’s nothing,” Slaine lies, hoping that Inaho will let it go. He talks about tensions between the UF and Vers every day; he doesn’t want to have to think about them now.

“Ah,” Inaho notes dubiously, with the same note of tolerant disbelief that Harklight uses, and he drops the subject in favor of kissing lightly against Slaine’s neck. 

Slaine’s breath catches, and he tilts his head to give Inaho more skin to tease at. Inaho obliges, pressing closed-mouth kisses down Slaine’s shoulder while his hands slip under Slaine’s shirt and up his chest. Slaine shivers at the infinite patience of that touch, and twists obligingly as Inano takes hold of his hips and pulls Slaine around to face him. He yields as Inaho tugs off both their shirts, spreads his legs and dips his head so Inaho can settle between his thighs and stand on his toes to kiss him. Inaho presses close, and the feel of skin against skin is too much; Slaine stiffens against Inaho’s hip and he slides his hands down Inaho’s spine, pulling him even tighter against him. 

It isn’t that Slaine hasn’t taken Versian lovers in the years since the war ended, but most of them treat him like a vessel of the gods. They handle him like porcelain and look uncomfortable when he goes to please them. Only a few realize that he doesn’t want to be semi-divine all hours of the day, that he’s fucking them to feel like a human being again. These observant few have all eventually gone too far in the opposite direction – orders and rough hands, bruises and claiming. Slaine doesn't want to revisit that part of his life, either. He cuts off the lovers who treat him like a thing to be used as quickly as he does the ones who treat him like a thing to be worshipped.

But Inaho looks at Slaine and Asseylum both as people rather than embodiments of alien power. Neither of them are out of place with him in this homey apartment. Slaine could love Inaho just for that, but he luxuriates in the firmness and gentleness of him, too. He’s steel and velvet together; his hands are self-assured as they pull Slaine’s pants to his knees, but not so forceful as to set off Slaine’s old anxieties. He interlaces their fingers and guides them around their hard cocks, and Slaine bucks comfortably against him, grinding against Inaho. Inaho lifts on his toes again, breath tickling against Slaine’s ear, and whispers –

“The oven will go off in eight minutes.” It’s stupid and mundane and Slaine wishes it could be part of his life more than once every few months. He buries his face in Inaho’s shoulder and rocks against him, groaning in frustrated disappointment. Inaho pats his head as though placating a small child, and pulls back thoughtfully. “It isn’t a problem if you’re fast.” 

When Slaine’s eyes widen, Inaho takes him by the wrist and tugs him out of the kitchen, both of them haphazardly shedding their pants as they stumble through the living room and into Inaho’s bedroom. It’s exactly like Slaine remembers it, small and clean and comfortable, and he lets Inaho stretch him out on the bed and moans contentedly as Inaho slides on top of him and bows his head to take Slaine’s dick in his mouth. Slaine cranes his neck to return the favor; the angle is slightly awkward, but it lets him knead at the lean muscles of Inaho’s ass as he sucks him off. Inaho is slick and methodical and clever with his fingers, but Slaine is practiced and determined, and he swallows Inaho almost completely and gets him off with a few minutes of noisy sucking. Inaho’s thighs quaver as he shoots into Slaine’s mouth, and he pulls off of Slaine’s dick for a moment to catch his breath. Slaine licks him clean, tip to balls, until Inaho recovers enough to get his steady rhythm back, and wrings a shivering, breathless orgasm out of Slaine. 

Inaho turns to face Slaine, straddling him and looking self-satisfied. He leans to cup Slaine’s face in his hands and smiles again. There’s more pity in that smile than when he talks about Asseylum, but his fingers are gentle feather-light as they brush across Slaine’s cheeks. “You seem better.”

Slaine tries to answer, but his chest is suddenly tight, and all he can manage is a wordless nod. He pushes himself up and presses his lips to Inaho’s. There’s not any lust to it, just loneliness, and Inaho wraps his arms around Slaine’s shoulders, holding him close, and warm, and human until the oven timer snaps at both of them to move.

Inaho, bound by the dictates of this homey fairy tale, shifts to kiss Slaine on the forehead, then gets to his feet and patters toward the kitchen. For a moment, Slaine considers staying where he is, surrounded by the smell of sex and Inaho, but the heat of Inaho’s body fades too quickly, and he pushes himself up after the real thing. He stumbles into the kitchen in time to see Inaho setting pans to cool on a rack.

“Cake?” he asks, bemused. He doesn’t remember Inaho making desserts before; so far as he can remember, only Edelrittuo has a sweet tooth in this odd household. 

“Mm,” says Inaho, unruffled by Slaine’s confusion. He goes back to the bowl he was working on before. He dips a spoon in it and holds out a dollop of frosting. “It’s a few weeks early, but Seylum-san didn’t want to miss your birthday completely. She said…” He tilts his head, apparently focusing on her exact words. “That you should get to celebrate at home.” 

Slaine could love them both, just for that.

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be fluffy I don't know why it got sad.
> 
> (Oh my god I wrote A/Z fic without Saazbaum? Oh my god I wrote A/Z fic that doesn't have any archive warnings?)


End file.
